Animus Serpentis
by Armelle-Madeline
Summary: Harry's had a bad summer. Draco's has been worse. Draco is to befriend Harry, as per his mother's orders, to spy for the Dark Lord. But pity only goes so far..While attraction goes further...


_A/N: Written because Ty bugged me for slash. And instead of Sirius/Remus, he's getting angsty Harry/Draco. Because I wuv him._

**Rating **– Based on boys doing each other. Oh c'mon, what did you think slash meant?

**Summary** – Harry's had a shitty summer. Draco's had a shittier one – and is now being encouraged to befriend Potter in an effort to help the Dark Lord. Harry's pity extends so far.. But attraction extends further.

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It was the beginning of a new school year, yet as Harry James Potter clambered onto the Hogwarts Express, he already felt older and more weighed down by the summer holidays than he had at the end of the last term. Ron and Hermione had followed him to the carriage, walking as if it were perfectly normal to escort Harry to one carriage when the Prefects' carriage was right up the other end of the train, and it wasn't about to pull out of the station, and then they had run, robes flying, up the other end. Unlike the year before, when Harry had felt annoyed that his friends weren't seated with him, and able to chat away the long journey through the countryside, he was quite satisfied that they were absent. He wasn't able to talk really, anyway.

The holidays had been difficult. Harry had avoided the other two, going off to sit on his own nearby the Burrow. Moody had kept a close guard on him, but somehow, the grizzled old Auror knew exactly how close Harry could stand someone else to be, and managed to maintain that distance and fade into the background, whereas Ron's concern was an irritation Harry could ill-conceal. At first, Ron had doggedly stuck to his side, pestering him to talk about it. He didn't seem to understand that Harry couldn't speak of him, of Sirius. A lump rose in his throat, choking off speech. His eyes prickled with tears, and he would turn away, kicking at a tuft of grass, making non-commital sounds in his throat. Although Harry hadn't thought it over consciously, Sirius had been his connection, the only one really left, to his parents. The one he'd really wanted to talk to, Remus, had been absent all summer. Harry had flatly refused to go to the Order headquarters at the beginning of the holidays, but looking for Remus, he'd given in.

They'd stayed a week, the Weasleys, Tonks, Moody and, oddly, Snape. Lupin hadn't bothered to show up, Harry had realised. He was avoiding him. The place had gradually got to him, his mood worsening as Ron and Hermione tiptoed cautiously about him. Things had been strained, and it was with almost relief that Harry had gone off to spend his solitary week with the Dursleys.

Of those staying at Grimmauld Place, Harry had found it surprising that the person he'd most got on with – through an awkward silence and half-truce – was Snape. Mrs Weasley had tried hard to be especially warm, and sensitive, Mr Weasley would whisk him off to explain a muggle object he was taking to bits, and listen enthusiastically, but Snape didn't bother to even try and make Harry feel comfortable, or not to remind him of Sirius. He simply ignored him, or sat in silence. The moments he'd gone to the kitchen to get something to eat and come across Snape, sitting drinking tea and reading the Prophet, instead of Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny, or Tonks, he'd actually begun to find soothing. He didn't have to pretend he didn't feel wretched, because Snape didn't give a bloody care.

Harry tossed his bundled up robes onto a seat by the corner, and sat down, letting his legs sprawl comfortably in front of him, closing his eyes. He'd grown once more over the summer; eating Mrs Weasley's cooking had encouraged his body into growing a couple more inches. A thin rim of skinny ankle showed beneath the hem of his jeans, and above his trainers, but his tee-shirt fitted. He'd bought it with Ron in London, from a shop specialising in merchandise from Quidditch teams. The 1994 Irish team line-up was written in white across a lurid green background, with a small silhouette of a Quidditch player swooping about in the background.

There was a small sigh. Harry's eyes opened, a small frown creasing his forehead. The carriage had been unoccupied, or so he'd thought as he'd got on. He scowled darkly at the other end of the compartment at Draco Malfoy, seated beside a window, curled up in the seat.

His frown faded into a look of puzzlement. The Slytherin wasn't accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, his normal duo of dim goons who followed him about. Malfoy had his legs tucked up under him, his blond hair, normally sleek and tidy, fell about his face, and he was staring at the floor, his arms folded across his chest, defensively.

Why wasn't Malfoy torturing first years up and down the train? And then the article Mr Weasley had read out to them earlier, resurfaced in Harry's mind. Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban, under Auror guard. He'd been caught three days ago. Of course! Without his father about, Draco wouldn't be nearly as cocky. Harry smiled for the first time in what seemed an age, this term would be different without the smug Slytherin strutting about the school, shouting and catcalling after Harry insults about his family, or his friends.

He sat back, folding his own arms, feeling slightly more relaxed about the new school year. Sixth year couldn't possibly be as awful.

And yet...

He slid a look at Malfoy again, an uncomfortable feeling slipping into his throat. The other boy hadn't noticed him, obviously, he was fully lost in his own world. For once, without the bravado, without his wand out and shouting insults, Malfoy looked...well, vulnerable. Like..

i Like he's just lost his father, /i Harry thought, surprised with his line of thought. But the look, like Malfoy had just lost everything in the world that mattered, and that he fully expected life to take another swing at him.

It was a look he recognised. He'd seen it in the mirror every morning for the past two months.

Hastily, Harry pushed pity for Malfoy out of his mind. The prat deserved everything he'd got, Harry told himself. He and his father had gone around revelling in the slaughter and torture of muggles and muggleborns as Voldemort's supporters gained strength. It was only a matter of time before Lucius Malfoy got put into Azkaban once the Ministry were aware that Voldemort had returned. Malfoy's own gleeful excitement at the Chamber being opened, at the effect of the Dementors on him, flickered into his mind. Grimly, Harry tugged on those memories, and pushed images of Malfoy possibly miserable, possibly acting like a human-being and being hurt out of his mind. Malfoy was a ferret-faced prat, and that, Harry told himself very firmly, was that.

"Harry," Ron said cheerfully, greeting him. "What are you doing down here? Neville and Luna are up the other end, with Hermione." He smiled hesitantly at Harry, his eyes sympathetic. Harry bit back a sigh, and stood up. Eating chocolate frogs, reading the cards and playing Exploding Snap was all right, but having to talk was not.

Before Harry could answer, Ron's eyes moved over the carriage, and found Malfoy, now apparently asleep. Ron's eyebrows knitted together in a dark scowl. "What's that fathead doing in here?" he demanded, turning to Harry. "Git. Ginny says the Slytherins were shouting things at the first years even before they got into the platform, stuff about having to mix with muggles. Idiots. The Ministry don't want the muggles to know about You-Know-Who. They have enough of a job dealing with two hundred sightings of a 'snake-like man' every day." He snorted, his contempt evident.

Harry glanced back at Malfoy. The other boy had fallen asleep in what looked like an uncomfortable position, leant against the glass of the window, twisted so that his arm fell across the side exposed, his wand still held loosely in his hand. There was something reminiscent about the posture, that he'd be attacked while asleep, that made Harry shake his head.

"Nah, leave him," he said nonchalantly. "Look, he's a little coward, hiding from the rest of the train. He hasn't done anything all journey, except sleep. Let's go and find the others," he prompted, earning a happy smile from Ron at his evident enthusiasm in being around his friends, that immediately stung his guilty conscience.

He allowed Ron to sling a friendly arm around his shoulders as they left Malfoy, still asleep.

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**A/N :** Next chapter, Luna, Neville, Hermione and Ron, and back at school, where extreme measures are being put in place for protection...


End file.
